


John Doe

by timeladyofletters



Series: John Doe [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mark of Cain, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, comatose character, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4799090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyofletters/pseuds/timeladyofletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Sam find Dean in a hospital - comatose and without any identification. The doctors say he won't wake up, but you know that isn't true, because the Mark of Cain won't let him die... (Takes place somewhere in the middle of season 10)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The surgery had been a success, to everyone’s surprise. It had been long and grueling for all of the doctors and nurses involved, not that they expected any less based on the injuries they were dealing with. But in the end, their patient pulled through.

The man had been found in the woods and brought to the hospital by one of the townspeople; bloody, broken, and unconscious. To gloss over the extent of the damage - he had severe head trauma, three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and deep slashes across his back. The police chalked it all up to an animal attack. They also assumed that the man’s age was somewhere in his 30′s.

That was all they could figure out about him.

Once the doctors ruled that he had slipped into a coma during the operation, they moved him to the ICU for observation, and waited for someone to claim him. While they waited, the police searched for some kind of clue as to who he was and where he came from, but they kept hitting brick walls.

The man was handsome, even in his condition. He caught the eye of everyone who glanced his way, particularly a night nurse who couldn’t help but spend extra time in his room while doing her rounds. On his second night in the hospital, the nurse was finishing her task of changing his IV bag when another nurse came in to deliver the man’s personal items. Most of his clothing, and he was wearing quite a few layers, were destroyed; but what could be salvaged were to be returned to him when he awoke.  _If_  he awoke.

When she was alone with him again, she looked through the bag and discovered all the man had left in the world - a pair of boots, and a photograph. She ignored the shoes in favor of the photo, which had multiple creases, as if it had been folded and unfolded many times. The nurse peered closer at it, eager to learn as much about this mysterious man as she possibly could.

The man was in the picture, just as she hoped, but he wasn’t alone. He was leaning back against a shiny black car, a classic American, the nurse was sure; and he had his arms around a woman. He was holding her close to his chest, as if she were the most precious thing in the world to him, and his lips were on her hair in a sweet kiss. She was was beautiful, with the the orange hue of the sunset dancing around her as she smiled at the camera. Her arms were crossed in front of her body, hands settling over the man’s own hands around her waist.

_They make a fine match_ , the nurse admitted to herself, despite the slight pang of jealousy.  _I wonder where she is now. I wonder if she even knows where he is._

Without any answers to the questions that plagued her, the nurse placed the comatose man’s things neatly in the side table, and exited his room. When she shut the door, she cast one last glance at the label on the wall in the hallway; a label that was supposed to bear the name of the patient in the room. 

A label that now read: John Doe.


	2. Chapter 2

“Agent Tyler, are you alright?” the woman who Sam was speaking to, Dr. Singh, asked him.

Sam Winchester pinched the bridge of his nose, his head aching just as much as it was when he woke up in the morning, and replied, “Yes, I’m good. Sorry, late night, long case.”

The doctor nodded in understanding, and motioned for him to continue speaking.

“So Vanessa and Allison are going to be alright then?” he inquired, referring to the young girls who he had gotten to the emergency room just hours before.

“They should be,” the doctor replied. “The blood-loss and fatigue will take a while to remedy, but I’m positive they’ll both make a full recovery. Though, things would run a lot faster if we knew how they came to be this way in the first place.” The doctor was suspicious, they always were.

“Sorry ma’am, but we’re still unsure. And even if we knew, that information would be classified,” Sam told her, all business, eager to end the conversation and get back home.

Of course it was a lie. The girls were victims of a lonesome vampire, one who was easily defeated; not that he could tell this woman of science the truth.

“Yes, alright,” said Dr. Singh. Before Sam could dismiss himself, she continued speaking. “Actually Agent, I know you need to leave, but I was hoping you could look into something for me?”

Sam hesitated for a few seconds, but his curiosity got the better of him. “I could try…”

“Great,” she said, walking to the elevator and waiting for the fake FBI agent to join her.

They traveled up to the fifth floor in silence, and no one spoke again until the doctor stopped in front of a closed room.

“This is a small town, Agent Tyler,” she began to explain. “Everyone knows everyone here. We rarely ever get strangers. Then one day Sal, a local construction worker, brought a John Doe in. You could imagine our surprise, seeing as we’ve never had one of those before.”

Sam nodded in agreement and waited for her to keep going.

“Anyways, he’s been here for four days now, comatose. No ID, severely injured. Nothing to go on except for his DNA, which the Sheriff said was a dead end, and a Satanic-looking tattoo on his chest.”

Sam’s breath halted for a second as he processed her words.  _A Satanic-looking tattoo on his chest._

Without another word, Dr. Singh opened the door to reveal a small, dark room. Not a sound could be heard, expect for the beeping of a heart monitor and the wheezing of a breathing machine. The light from the hallway streamed in around Sam and the doctor, ever so slightly illuminating the still figure in the hospital bed. Despite the dimness of the room, Sam knew immediately who he was looking at.

“You’re asking me to find out who he is,” Sam assumed out loud, never taking his eyes off the John Doe.

“Yes, if it’s not to–” the doctor started to say until she was cut off by the now pale agent, who moved past her towards the stairwell and clipped out,

“I have to make a call.”

Ten seconds later, your phone rang, Sam’s name flashing across the screen. You answered instantly, but before you could ask about the two vampire victims, Sam’s voice declared through the speaker, “I found him.”


	3. Chapter 3

**\- Five Weeks Ago -**

Dean was yelling again, his voice echoing throughout the bunker. He’d been so much more agitated lately, ever since he got that damn thing on his arm. Of course, he had always been a little temperamental, but he used to have it under control. Though you had to admit to himself, this time, he had a good reason to be upset.

“I told you two I had it covered!” he bellowed at you and Sam as soon as he finished wrapping the shallow knife wound on your upper arm.

You sighed heavily, preparing yourself for the same argument the three of you had been having for weeks now.

Sam, of course, was more than willing to go at it again. “Dean, there were six demons and one of you. Did you expect us to just sit and watch?”

“Yes.” Dean was curt in his reply, as though his was the final word.

“Dean,” you said softly, trying to diffuse the tension. You had always had a calming effect on him, even now. “Sam and I and hunters too, we know what we’re doing.”

Dean groaned into his hands, frustrated that he couldn’t figure out a way of explaining himself without offending you and his brother.

“It’s not about that Y/N” he groaned as he moved his left hand down his right arm, leaving it to rest right over where the Mark of Cain lay etched into his skin. “Its the Mark. Every damn demon out there knows I have it, and it’s calling to them like a friggin’ beacon. They’re gonna keep coming after me, and you two are gonna keep getting caught in the crossfire.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, something he’d been doing a lot lately, and thought for a moment before saying, “I know. You’re right, but Dean, you can’t face this on your own. It’s too much, even for you. Let me call someone - Cas, Charlie, hell I’ll even go to a witch at this point.”

“No Sam. It has to be me,” Dean insisted. “I have to do this, alone.”

“You’re talking about leaving aren’t you,” you said shakily. Your ability to predict Dean’s every move had always been uncanny.

Dean moved to stand in front of you, grasping both your hands in his own and giving them a gentle squeeze. “I have to.”

“I’ll come with you,” you decided, your voice betraying your fear for the older Winchester. You mentally cursed yourself for being on the brink of crying. You weren’t a weepy person, but when it came to Dean, your emotions were everywhere.

He leaned his forehead down to yours, bracing them against each other, taking comfort in your touch. “I always want you with me, Y/N, but that’s the problem. I’m leaving to protect the both of you. I need to figure this thing out - get rid of it or get it under control. And if I fail, you and Sam can’t be around when I go nuclear.”

That was it then. The end of the discussion. Dean had gotten his way somehow, and the next thing you knew, you were in your room watching Dean pack his clothes into a duffle bag. He tried to keep the air as light as possible, cracking jokes and talking about your favorite shows, but you knew he was only doing it for your sake. When he realized that he hadn’t even gotten a smile out of you, he dropped what he was doing and made the four steps it took to reach where you were standing. Without another word, he pulled you into him and wrapped his arms around you securely. Dean’s embrace was your happy place. It was where you felt loved, felt  _safe_. When he held you, it felt as if he would never let you go. Except, that was exactly what he was about to do.

That thought was too much for you, and the dam broke. Tears trickled out of you silently, and before you knew it, you were sobbing into his chest; clutching him as tightly as you could. He didn’t try to shush you, for he knew you needed to let it all out. Your tears reflected what he was feeling in his own heart, but he had to stay strong for the both of you.

While you cried, Dean lifted you in his arms and strode over to sit on the bed, with you cradled in his lap. He rocked you slightly, kissing every inch of your face, trying not to let your tears destroy him.

After a while, once you had calmed down a bit, Dean held your cheeks between his palms and kissed your lips softly. You tasted the odd mix of beer and mint on him, while he tasted the salt of your tears on you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he murmured, as if for the first time. After three years, you could never get used to hearing him say it. “I will always come back to you. I promise.”

Half an hour later, Dean had the Impala packed and ready to go.

“You guys look out for each other,” he warned, as if he were a strict parent. “Don’t take on any cases you can’t handle, clean up the kitchen after every use, and don’t watch  _Game of Thrones_ without me.”

You smiled weakly at him, while Sam rolled his eyes, in true little brother fashion.  “Call and text us when you can,” Sam ordered. “If we go a week without hearing from you, we’re hauling your ass back here.” 

Dean nodded as a humorless smile crept to his lips. “I’m counting on it.”

Then the brothers hugged it out, something they did more than they liked to admit. You were thankful that you got to witness those moments between them.

When it was time for you to say good-bye, you steeled yourself, refusing to cry anymore. Instead you kissed him, as hard as your could, pouring all of your love into the kiss. When Dean responded with the same passion, your every doubt faded away. He’d be back. You knew he would.

And then, after one last peck on your lips, one last “I love you” whispered between the two of you, and one last squeeze to his brother’s shoulder, Dean was gone.

Not long after, you retreated back to the room you and Dean shared, ready to curl up in a ball and sleep until he came back. Before your head hit the pillow, you noticed a note sitting there. In a scrawl that you knew so well, the note read:

> _I promise - D._

You held that piece of paper close to your heart as you fell asleep, trusting the man who wrote it to honor the vow he made to you just an hour earlier.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean texted more than he called after he left you and Sam behind. At first, it hurt; you felt even more distant from him than you already were. After a week, you felt a sense of relief because you realized that hearing his voice would be more than you could handle. Little did you know, Dean felt the exact same way. He knew that if he spoke to you, if he heard your voice ask him to come home, he’d be powerless to resist.

The texts themselves were brief - simple messages to assure you that he was still alive. Such as:

> _The pie here is crap. I miss yours -D_
> 
> _In Jersey. Thinking about hunting the kids from that show. Miss you. -D_

And then other times, usually late at night, he would send you messages that broke your heart all over again:

> _I couldn’t save a 12 year old from a wraith. Whats the point of having this damn thing if I can’t save people who need saving? -D_
> 
> _Can’t sleep without you -D_
> 
> _The only thing keeping me going right now is knowing that you’re safe -D_

Your responses to his texts started off with you begging him to come back to you, to come home. But he always left those ones unanswered. You caught on quick, and soon only began texting him the important things - the hunts you were going on, lore that could be relevant to the Mark of Cain, and every night you were sure to text him that you loved him. He replied to those last ones the same way every time:

> _I love you too. Sweet dreams Y/N. -D_

On the rare occasions when he did call, the conversations were always short and filled with mundane chatter. You were both always sure to skirt around the real problem - you were miserable apart.

As betrayed as you felt by his departure, you eventually came to understand why Dean had to leave. He was different now, thanks to the Mark, and he had to find himself. He had to fix himself. Sometimes you and Sam would talk about it and try to get inside his absent brother’s head, but these discussions always left you both even more frustrated than you were before.

The texts and calls from Dean were your constant, they kept you hopeful for his safe return. Then, 3 weeks after he left, the communication stopped altogether.

***********************************************************************

**\- Back to the Present -**

When Sam called you that fateful day, it had been 5 weeks since Dean left the bunker, and 2 weeks since you got your last ‘sweet dreams’ text from him.

You and Sam had been actively looking for him of course - calling everyone you knew and interviewing anyone who may have had contact with him in the last town he told you about.

His trail ran cold in a small town in Pennsylvania.

While you and Sam were there, you got wind of what you suspected to be vampire attacks, a few towns over. At first you were hesitant to go, you wanted to put all the energy you had into tracking Dean down, but Sam convinced you that your job was still important. People still had to be saved.

It was an open and shut case - you saved the girls and beheaded the vamp in less than a day. Sam took the two victims to the hospital, under the guise of an FBI agent, while you stayed back at the motel to pack the car.

You had just finished putting your clothes in your duffle bag when Sam’s number lit up your phone. 

“I found him.” 

Those three words put you into overdrive. Sam gave you very brief instructions: the hospital, fifth floor, room 512; but no other detail stood out more to you than the word ‘comatose’.

You made it to the hospital in record time, and it took all the self-control you had to keep yourself from running through the building to get to Dean. Sam met you outside of the room, and without a word, he pulled you into a hug.

“S-Sam, you’re scaring me,” you stuttered into his suit-clad shoulder.

Sam loosened his grip on you and backed away a little bit. “Sorry, sorry. I just...I want you to be prepared.”

You took a deep breath as Sam placed a hand on the door handle. As soon as you felt ready, you nodded, and the door swung open.

The cold air of the room hit you first, something you knew Dean would complain about if he could. You kept your eyes cast down to the floor as you made your way to the bed, and when you got there, you looked.

He seemed like he usually did after a fight - bruised and beautiful, but there were so many things that were wrong. The pale color of his skin was wrong. The thin hospital gown was wrong. The stillness of his form, the closed lids that hid his green eyes, the absence of a smile at the very presence of you;  _wrong, wrong, wrong_. But you refused cry, because this time, you had to be the brave one.

You took a seat in the chair beside the bed, and carefully took his hand in your own.  “Hey, baby,” you said softly, hoping that he could hear you somehow.

You sat in silence for a while, just watching him for movement, a sign of life, anything. When nothing happened, you asked Sam to tell you what the doctors said.

“He’s been like this for 4 days, but the broken ribs and punctured lung are under control,” Sam told you, as if he’d heard the same words a thousand times. Maybe he did. “The doctors aren’t worried about that. But he’s got severe head trauma, Y/N, and he’s barely breathing on his own. And he’s still got the Mark.”

There was even more silence in the room as you and Sam had the same thought - the Mark of Cain was why Dean was still alive, if this is what you would call living. Dean was on the edge, teetering between life and a demonic rebirth, and you were powerless to tip the odds in your favor.

Just then, the door opened, and a young nurse walked in.

“Hello, I’m just here to...” she stopped speaking as soon as her eyes landed on you. “You’re the girl!” she gasped, motioning in your direction.

Sam looked between the two of you, his confused expression mirroring your own.

“Excuse me?” you asked flatly, not in the mood for whatever this woman had to say.

“The girl from the pict- oh, wait, hold on.” She pulled something out of a drawer and handed it to you.

“John Doe, or I guess you know his real name, he didn’t have anything with him besides his clothes,” she explained. “No money, no drivers licence, no phone. Nothing except for that picture in his jeans pocket. I figured that girl had to be pretty special to him if the photo was more important to carry around than his own identity.”

You smiled at her words as you looked down at the photo in your hands. The Dean in it l was much more familiar than the life-sized one in front of you. Sam began questioning the nurse, asking for updates on his brother’s condition, but you couldn’t hear anything. In your mind, you were back to that day, a little over a year ago.

*********************************************************************** 

**\- Flashback -**

“You need special permission to sit on that car,” Dean hollered as he walked towards where you were, perched on the hood of the Impala.

The sun was setting now, a perfect end to a pretty good day. Charlie was in town, so you and the Winchesters took her on a picnic at a nearby park. The day was filled with food, laughter, and stolen kisses between you and Dean.

“Yeah well, I sleep with the guy who drives it, so does that count?” you teased.

Dean smirked at you, a look he knew could melt your insides in seconds. “Mmmm, nah. You’re gonna have to do something a little extra,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. You braced yourself, waiting for his lips to be just a breath away from your own, before you hopped off the car and ran for the driver side door.

Before you could open it, a pair of arms caught you around the torso and swung you around. You squealed in surprise, a sound you were not so proud of, and he set you back on your feet. Dean was smiling down at you, green eyes sparking with the light of the setting sun, and you pulled him down for the kiss you had denied him earlier.

His lips were soft on yours, and his hands held you face in a way that made you feel treasured. Loved. Dean moaned as you kissed him back, your hands tugging gently at his short hair. Things were about to get a little more intense and heated when the sound of a shutter and a flash of light interrupted you.

“Friggin paparazzi,” Dean muttered when he pulled away from you. You laughed at his annoyance and turned around to see Charlie pointing her camera at you and Dean.

“Come on you lovebirds, we have to capture every moment!” she insisted gleefully.

Dean groaned and leaned down towards you again, this time burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide from the camera. His breath on your skin tickled you in the most delicious way.

“Just one picture, Dean? We barely have any,” you asked him softly, knowing that there were very few things he would say no to if you asked.

Dean sighed, which you took as a “yes”, so you turned around and leaned back into his chest. Then he wound his arms around your waist and held you securely to him.

It wasn’t until after when you saw the picture on Charlie’s camera that you realized that instead of smiling at the camera, Dean was smiling down at you and his lips were on your hair. His touch was so feather-light that you hadn’t even felt it. You didn’t even know that Dean had a copy of it printed until the nurse handed it to you in the hospital.

You were still lost in your memories, thinking about how Dean had mumbled a quiet “I love you” into your ear right after the photo was snapped, when a loud alarm started sounding. Suddenly, your illusion shattered, and it was pure chaos. Doctors and nurses were rushing in, Sam was pulling you out of the way, and someone was yelling the words, “Code red, he’s crashing!”


	5. Chapter 5

You and Sam watched in horror as the doctors tried to revive and stabilize Dean. You cried then, the tears streaming down your face as you begged Dean not to leave you again. After exactly forty-seven seconds, Dean’s heart was beating.

“He’s stable for now,” a doctor told you, “but he’s being kept alive by the machines. I’m sorry to tell you this, but his condition is not going to get any better. You’re going to have to make a decision soon.” After apologizing again and giving you a look of genuine sympathy, she left.

“W-what do we do, Sam?” you hiccupped, moving back to your place beside Dean.

“We can’t let him die and turn into a demon again,” Sam said, running his hands through his hair in a sign of frustration. “But we can’t just leave him like this either!”

“Maybe I could be of service,” a gravelly, familiar voice suggested out of nowhere.

You and Sam turned around to find Crowley standing by the window. He strode toward Dean, but before he could get any closer, you jumped out of the chair and yelled, “DON’T!”

“Come now, Y/N, do you really think I could do any more damage than what’s already been done?” he asked you. God, that accent got on your nerves.

Without another word, you sat back down, and continued to give the King of Hell the death-stare.

“What are you doing here, Crowley?” Sam asked, his hand in his suit pocket where you knew he had the demon-killing knife.

“I may have a solution to our problem,” he began.

You laughed humorlessly at his words. “ _Our_  problem?”

“Yes, darling,  _ours_. I don’t want demon Dean back any more than you do. He was a menace, even by hell’s standards.” Crowley pulled out a bowl and some vials, seemingly out of nowhere.

You and Sam both knew you couldn’t trust him, but you had to know if you had options other than the inevitable ones. 

Sam sighed in defeat. “What do you propose?” he asked.

Crowley stopped what he was doing to stare sternly at the two of you. “Before I tell you, I feel it’s my duty as an honorable demon,” you and Sam both scoffed at the word ‘honorable’, “to stress how extreme these circumstances are. As such, what I’m proposing is, for lack of a better word, extreme.”

Sam was gearing up to make a snarky remark when you desperately jumped in instead.

“We’ll do anything.”

_***********************************************************************_

**\- Flashback -**

Dean was a mess when he became a human again. He tried not to show it, he didn’t want you and Sam and Cas to know how troubled and in pain he was. The day after Sam turned him human, once he had some rest and actually ate some food, he went to find you in the room that you were temporarily sleeping in. You hated the distance, but you knew you both needed space after everything that happened.

“Y/N, can we talk?” he asked tentatively as he stood in the open doorway.

Those words sent a chill down your spine, but you ignored it. “Yeah, of course. Come on in.”

He shut the door and took a seat beside you on the bed. Even here, at such close quarters, there was still an unusual amount of physical space between you and him.

“Y/N, I did things,” he said after a long pause, as if he knew what to say but didn’t have the words to say it. “I hurt people and I stole and I destroyed…”

You put a hand on his arm to soothe him. “It’s okay Dean. You weren’t yourself. We don’t blame you,” you assured him.

He shook his head and clenched his hands into fists. “There’s something else, and I – I want to take it back, I would do  _anything_  to take it all back; but I can’t and I don’t know what to do and I’m so scared of losing you, Y/N.”

You didn’t want to hear anymore. Whatever he was about to say, you knew it was something terrible, something Dean deemed to be unforgivable. “Dean, you’re scaring me,” you whispered shakily.

“I slept with other women.”

His confession was short and clear, but no less brutal. You covered your mouth with your hands, and willed yourself not to cry, but it was in vain. In an instant, Dean was kneeling on the floor in front of you, his eyes begging for you to hear him out.

“Y/N, I don’t expect you to forgive me, and I’d understand if you want me to go away, but you need to know – it meant nothing. I love you. I love you with everything I have, and there’s no way in hell I’d ever do anything to hurt you if I was myself.”

You heard his words, but you couldn’t verbally respond. Instead, you continued to cry silently.

“Baby, please, say something. Anything,” he pleaded.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you looked at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, and there was grief and shame etched into every line of his face.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked him, your voice at a whisper.

“I-I don’t know,” he admitted softly. Then he took your hands in his own. When you didn’t pull away, he took it as a sign to continue speaking. “What happens next is up to you. I want to be with you, I’ll always want to be with you, but it’s your decision. Whatever you want me to do, Y/N, I’ll do it.”

Without a clue as to what you wanted to do, you just sat there, staring at your hands in his. You thought about everything - his confession, your pain, his pain. The feel of his skin against yours and the fact that even though he just shattered your world, he still felt like home to you.

Dean Winchester was the love of your life, and before that, he was your best friend. His family was your family, his life was your life too. You and Dean had become so intertwined that sometimes is was impossible to tell where he ended and where you began. What you had together couldn’t be thrown away or forgotten, it had to be fought for.

“You hurt me, Dean,” you began when you finally came to a decision. “I was never the kind of person who could forgive something like this.” You watched sadly as a tear rolled down his guilt-stricken face. “I love you so damn much, Dean. I know it wasn’t really you doing all of those things, and that doesn’t make them any easier to accept, but maybe it’ll make them easier to forgive.”

You took a deep breath and loosened your hands from Dean’s. Instead of moving away, you placed a hand on the side of his face and ran your thumb along his cheek. “I can’t guarantee that we can fully move past this or that we’ll be the same again, but I’m willing to try if you are.”

Dean stared at you with a look of shock, which soon turned in awe. It took a very strong woman to say such a thing, and every day, your strength amazed him.

“I’m willing and ready,” he promised, solemnly. “I’ll do anything for you, Y/N.”

With that, you felt your steely resolve melt away, and you couldn’t resist the urge to hold him any longer. You pulled him close, and allowed him to wrap you in his strong arms. Then he kissed your temple right when you kissed his chest, directly over his heart, and you knew instantly that you had made the right decision.

It took some time, and a lot of work, but you and Dean eventually came out on the other side even better together than you were before. Maybe the two of you didn’t need space after all.

_***********************************************************************_

**\- Back to the Present -**

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Crowley asked you for what felt like the millionth time.

“Yes, I’m sure, we’ll do anything to save him, just tell us!” you were almost yelling now.

“Just making sure,” Crowley shrugged. “Alright then. The Mark of Cain is some of the oldest, most powerful magic I’ve ever seen. No other magic can touch the bloody thing. Luckily, I’ve found something that can, let’s say, go around it.”

“How?” Sam asked, waiting for the demon to get to the point.

“The spell I have in mind will bring Dean back to life, all good and well, without turning him into a demon. Simple enough for you?” he explained.

You were fully aware that the spell seemed too good to be true. “What’s the catch?”

“The spell requires a great sacrifice,” Crowley said, “and no, I don’t mean a soul.”

“Just tell us!” demanded Sam, who was on the brink of violence.

“Fine!” Crowley hissed, annoyed with the rude treatment he was receiving, not that you or Sam cared. “To save Dean, you will have to sacrifice Dean.”

There was a pause while you and Sam tried to understand what he was saying, but nothing clicked. Enraged at Crowley’s riddles, Sam shoved him against the wall and held the demon-killing knife against his throat.

“That. Makes. No. Sense.” Sam bellowed in Crowley’s face. With all the yelling going on in the room, you were surprised that no one had come to see what was going on. Then you figured that Crowley must have done something to assure you all were not disturbed.

“It makes perfect sense if you would shut your gob and listen!” Crowley spat out. Then he focused his attention on you, completely ignoring the Winchester who was one sarcastic remark away from slicing his neck open.

“The greatest sacrifice of all is one that is made out of love,” he explained to you. “In order to bring Dean back, you will have to give up whatever it is that you and he have together.”

You froze in place, feeling a sense of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Sam lowered the knife a little and looked from you to Dean. “You mean, you’ll have to make them forget each other?”

“You catch on quick Moose, bravo,” Crowley mock congratulated. “But you got one aspect wrong. A sacrifice requires a loss, yes, but it also requires that one _feels_  the pain of said loss. Get it now?” He was staring at you again, waiting for a reaction.

It was like a punch to the gut - the air left your lungs in a whoosh and you felt nauseous. “So you’re saying you have to erase Dean’s memories, make him forget me, while I leave without him. And I’ll remember everything.”

Crowley nodded his head in confirmation, and you nodded back.

Sam was at your side in a second. “Woah, hang on. You’re not actually considering this, Y/N! It’s Crowley. He could be lying.”

“Or he could be telling the truth!” you insisted. “We’re out of options, Sam. I have to save him. I’ll do anything to save him, even this.”

“Y/N,” Sam pleaded, changing tactics, “Dean would be furious if he knew. He’d never want you do to this for him.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing he won’t know who I am,” you said calmly. Just like that day when Dean asked you to make a choice, the right decision was obvious to you. You looked up at Sam and smiled sadly. “The Winchesters aren’t the only ones with self-sacrificing tenancies.”

Sam let out a deep breath and pulled you in for a hug, resting his chin on top of your head. He wanted to argue with you more, but he knew it was pointless. If Crowley had made him the same offer to save his brother, he would have taken it just as quickly as you did. “You’re a Winchester, Y/N. Dean would have wanted you to be one, so you are. No matter what happens.”

After a few minutes of silent comfort from Sam, you turned to Crowley, who was standing awkwardly in the corner. “So, how do we do this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter will be up tomorrow!


	6. Chapter 6

Crowley explained what needed to be done pretty simply. He was going to put a potion together, recite an incantation, and after ten minutes Dean would wake up - human, and without any knowledge of your very existence. There were a few things that the demon needed in order for the spell to work: a few drops of yours and Dean’s blood, and two tangible representations of what you were giving up. Along with the blood, you gave Crowley the photo Dean had of the two of you; as well as the note Dean left on your pillow the night he left, in which he promised to return to you.

Candles were lit, the note and picture were burned in a stone bowl, and the potion was poured on top of it all. Then Crowley said a spell in a language that sounded both old and dark. In a matter of minutes, the ritual was complete.

“Of course, Samantha and your other friends will remember you, Y/N. Whatever they do with that information is up to them,” he told you. Then he glanced up at the clock on the wall. “You have ten minutes to say goodbye.” He vanished in a blink, and Sam left the room as well, giving you and Dean some time alone.

You were terrified of what was about to happen. When your body began to tremble with silent sobs, you went to Dean, and crawled into the bed with him. Then you placed your arm around his waist and lay your head on his chest. His heartbeat was barely there, but you could still hear and feel it. You would always feel it.

“Don’t worry Dean,” you assured him softly. “You’re going to wake up soon. And you’ll be fine. I promise, everything will be fine.”

You were so angry - angry at the universe, angry at an absent God, angry at Dean for leaving in the first place, and angry at yourself for letting him go. But what was done had been done, there was no turning back. You made your choice, and knowing that you were giving Dean another chance was enough for you.

Bending your arm to place your hand his face, you began to stroke his cheek as the tears fell from your eyes. “Remember when we first found the bunker? How we laid in bed the next morning, just cuddling and talking like a normal couple?”

__***********************************************************************__  

**\- Flashback -**

That morning, you awoke to the sensation of Dean’s lips peppering your face with light kisses. You tried your best not to move and let him know that you were awake, but your unintentional smile gave you away.

“Good morning, my sun and stars,” he murmured in you ear, giving you a pet name straight out of  _Game of Thrones_.

“Ugh, no,” you grumbled. “You did not just say that.”

“Fine. Do you prefer ‘moon of my life’?” he teased. “How about ‘Khaleesi’?”

You couldn’t take his early morning cheesiness anymore, so you covered his mouth with your hand and said, “You are such a dork.”

When he rolled his eyes at you, you shifted your body so that you were more or less on top of him, with your head resting on his chest and your legs entangled with his. 

“I could get used to this,” sighed Dean as he tightened his arms around your waist and you hummed in agreement.

The two of you lay there for a while, reveling in the fact that you had nowhere to be and a door to to ensure your privacy. Then Dean began to trail a tingly path along your bare spine with the very tips of his fingers, and you purred with delight. 

“So Dean,” you said. “We have a home now, with our own room and an actual kitchen. We’re practically domestic.”

Dean chuckled at your statement. “All we need is a mortgage to pay and a couple of rugrats. And maybe a dog for Sammy…”

“Wait, what?” you asked, abruptly sitting up and clutching the sheets to your chest.

Dean sat up too, and watched you cautiously. “What just happened?”

“You…you said you wanted kids,” you explained nervously. 

Dean cursed under his breath and rubbed his hand across his face. “Baby, I didn’t mean…I just…ah screw it. Yeah, Y/N, I think I do. I just never really saw it as an option for us until now.” He waited a few seconds for you to respond, and when you stayed silent, he asked, “what do you think?”

“Dean…” you hesitated for a moment. “Hunters don’t get to have a home and a family and a normal life. It’s just too much to lose.”

A few more minutes went by, and both you and Dean couldn’t figure out what else to say. So instead, you leaned your head onto his shoulder, and he soon reciprocated by winding his arm around your back.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you mumbled.

“Don’t be, Y/N. What we have already is enough for me. I wouldn’t change any of it,” he assured you.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He ended the conversation by surprising you with a kiss. You immediately opened your mouth to him, and reveled in the warm softness of his lips and tongue as he tasted you. When you let out a little moan, Dean effortlessly picked you up from the bed and settled you onto his lap so that you were straddling him.

“Y/N?” Dean asked when he moved his lips to your neck. “Are you sure about this room? ‘Cause we haven’t even tried the other ones out yet.” 

You gasped as he slid a hand along your thigh, moving it higher and higher at a tortuously slow pace. “Mmmm, Dean are you saying we should have sex in all of the other rooms in this place?”

He grinned mischievously at you. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”  

“Fine,” you shrugged nonchalantly, “but you’re making me breakfast first.”

 Dean kissed the tip of your nose and then hopped out of the bed. “As you wish, Khaleesi.”

_***********************************************************************_

**\- Back to the present -**

You inhaled a shaky breath and forced yourself to keep talking, to make the most of every second you had left with him.

“We finally had a home, and then you said you wanted us to try for a family. I got scared. I mean, hunters don’t get to raise kids and live happily ever after.” You thought back to that day, about how nervous Dean was to discuss his dreams with you, and about how badly you reacted.

“But these past few years have shown me that I want that life with you, Dean. I want it so bad, but you need it more than I do. You deserve it more than anyone does. And now you’ll have the chance, even if it’s not with me.”

The sobs, the tears, the anguish; they couldn’t be held back any longer. You let yourself break down completely, burying your face in Dean’s shoulder and holding him as close as possible. If you could have had one wish in that moment, just one, you would have wished for Dean to wrap you in his arms where you would be safe from the world. 

“I-I love you so much, Dean Winchester,” you told him for the last time. “I will always love you, no matter what happens.” 

There was so much more that had to be said, but the words were failing you now. Instead, you took what little time you had left to memorize every detail of his form, every line and bump of his skin, every freckle that dotted his face. Dean would never say your name again, his green eyes would never look your way again, he would never kiss or hug or love you again. You could almost physically feel your heart being torn to shreds.

Then the room door quietly opened, and Sam walked in. You knew your ten minutes were up.

You ran your thumb along Dean’s lips, hating how rough and chapped they had become. Slowly, you pressed your mouth to his, and kissed him tenderly. You had to be careful to avoid the tube that ran down through his throat, yet you were able to pour all the love you had left in your heart into that kiss.

When you finally pulled away, Dean’s eyes were open.

__***********************************************************************__  

It was almost like something out of a fairy tale; the kiss of true love bringing the cursed one back to life. Except you knew there would be no happy ending. 

For the first time in weeks, you were staring into the eyes you had fallen so deeply in love with. And for the first time ever, there was no recognition in his gaze. It was almost as if he was seeing right through you.

“Dean?” you whispered, trying to get his attention. Then he began to cough around the breathing tube, and soon the coughs turned into choking.

“Nurse! We need some help here, he’s awake!” Sam yelled into the hallway. 

Within seconds, the room was swarmed with medical professionals. You and Sam were shooed out while they calmed Dean down, ran tests, and tried to figure out how the hell he was alive.

“That son of a bitch was telling the truth,” Sam said in amazement. You smiled at his very Dean-like choice of words, and then pulled the younger Winchester in for a hug.

“He…he didn’t know me, Sam,” you whispered. “He looked right at me, and there was nothing.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Sam murmured. Then he took a step back, keeping his hands on your shoulders. “What if you didn’t leave? I’ll tell Dean that I met you on a hunt or something and invited you to stay with us. He’ll fall for you again in no time, and then the two of you could start over.”

The thought had already crossed your mind, before Sam even suggested it, but you knew it wouldn’t work out. “No, Sam. There’s too much history now, too much that we’ve lost. Things will be better this way.”

Sam didn’t like that answer. “But, Y/N…” he objected, only to be cut off by you.

“Remember how broken up he was after he was a demon?” you asked him. “No matter what I did to prove that I forgave him, he still carried around so much guilt and hate and shame. Now at least he won’t have to feel that way anymore. In his mind, he wasn’t in a relationship with anyone when he went rogue, so there was no one to be unfaithful to.”

Before Sam could bring up another reason for you to stay, Dr. Singh stepped out into the hallway.

“I don’t know how, but your brother…it defies all the laws of science and medicine, of  _life_ ,” she said, awestruck. 

“He’s okay?” Sam asked her, just needing to hear the words repeated back.

“Yes, he’s okay,” the doctor obliged. “We’re just finishing up some tests, and then you two can go in and see him. I recommend that he stay here a few more nights for observation, though.”

You and Sam nodded at her suggestion and waited for her to leave. When she was gone, you turned back to Sam. “Make sure he stays for a few days so I can clear all of my things out of the bunker.”

“Y/N, please, stay,” Sam pleaded, giving it one final try.

Instead of arguing with him again, you gave him another hug. “Look after each other, okay?” You kissed Sam on the cheek and whispered, “Goodbye, Sam.”

Then you walked away, straight out of that hospital, leaving behind the only life you’d ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this was the last chapter, but now I'm writing a teensy weensy epilogue for it. Should be up soon!


	7. Epilogue

**\- Three days later -**

After what felt like an eternity of practically being held hostage in that hospital, Dean was finally discharged.

“You should have gotten me out as soon as I woke up,” Dean grumbled at his brother, who was waiting for him to change out of that ridiculous hospital gown.

“The doctors insisted on keeping you for more tests,” Sam sighed. It was the truth, but it wasn’t the real reason why he made no effort to get Dean out sooner.

Dean rolled his eyes, pulled on his coat, and motioned towards the door. “Okay, let’s get outta here.”

“Fine, but I’m driving,” said Sam.

“You already got to drive it when you picked it up from the motel I was at,” Dean argued. “Look, I can walk. And if I can walk, then I sure as hell can drive my baby.”

Not in the mood for Dean’s stubbornness, which reminded him of someone else who he refused to think about, Sam handed over the keys and left the room. As they made their way to the elevator, Sam heard Dean trying to get his attention.

“Sammy? This is gonna sound weird but…uh, was there a girl in my bed when I was coming out of the coma?”

Sam stopped dead in his tracks. “What kind of pervy dreams were you having?” he fake laughed, trying to mask the tension in his voice with humor. “That sounds like the plot to a porn movie or something.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and looked down sheepishly. He knew it was a long shot, the drugs they had him on must have made him a little loopy when he was waking up. “I don’t know, man,” he shrugged, “I swear I saw someone. She felt so real.”

Instead of making something up and telling another lie, Sam plucked the Impala’s keys back from Dean’s fingers. “I’m driving. You clearly need more rest.”

Dean didn’t notice the way Sam fidgeted on the elevator ride down, nor did he notice how solemnly quiet his brother was. He was too busy thinking about the girl he knew he saw when he opened his eyes three days ago. He assumed she had to be a doctor or a nurse or another patient. And she was beautiful, impossibly so, though her face was full of immeasurable sorrow.

As Dean walked out of the hospital, he hoped to get one last glimpse of her before he left; because a girl like her, well, she wasn’t someone who he could easily forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one kinda ran away from me. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you all so so much for being patient and kind :)


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